Sunday, 27 January 2013

The international programs
at UU are taught in English, and as a rule Dutch people speak English quite
fluently and willingly. However, awkward collisions between Dutch and English
are unavoidable. Here are a few tips for navigating the language highway.

Beware automatic translators
on Dutch websites! Like satnav, they can lead you astray. Recently I was
seeking information about spinning classes on a Dutch health club web site and was
surprised to find that the club offered, in bold type, “Virtual Spiders!” Which
only makes sense once you realize “spin” in Dutch means “spider,” and the
plural, “spinnen” translates to “spiders.” Otherwise, you might mistake a
cycling class for a horror movie. Then again, perhaps virtual spiders are
included as motivation to spin especially vigorously!

When speaking Dutch, be
careful about slipping in English words that don’t necessarily translate well.
For example, the Dutch word for “wife” is “vrouw.” The sound-alike Dutch word, “wijf,”
is a perjorative term meaning “bitch” or “old bag.” So unless you really don’t like somebody’s wife, take
care when referring to her as such! Also, note that the Dutch word for buttocks
is “bil.” This just might account for the amused expression you receive when you
politely ask for your “bill” after dinner. And the nickname for William, “Willem”
in Dutch, is “Wim,” so your new friend Willem might misunderstand if you
ask whether you can him “Bill.”

Also be careful with Dutch
words that sound similar but have very different meanings. For example, “borstel”
means brush, while “borsten” means breasts. So, when shopping for a hair brush, don’t ask the clerk whether she has borsten and where they may be located. And using "kers," cherry, when you meant "kaars," candle, might find you looking for candles in the produce aisle.

Of course, awkward
translations also abound when a Dutch speaker slips in a Dutch word
while speaking English. My mother once had a Dutch friend who cheerfully
informed her new American in-laws that she was going upstairs for a “douche,” which
in Dutch means shower. Thanks for sharing! My aged Dutch grandmother used to
raise eyebrows when asking for “prik,” soda, in American restaurants. And “dik”
means fat, thick, or bulky, but might be misconstrued when describing someone as
a little dik.

Even a technically correct
translation will not always translate well. For example, in asking for a match
or lighter in America, you would ask for a “light.” However, if you use the
proper Dutch word for light, “licht,” you may be quizzically referred to a nearby
lamp. In Dutch, you would ask for “vuur,” fire, and matches are “lucifers.” I imagine
a Dutch person asking an American for fire or Lucifer might be misunderstood,
as well!

So buy a good
Dutch/English dictionary, take Dutch classes through ING, go to language
exchange Meet Up groups, and practice, practice, practice! Meanwhile, I am off
to the gym for some virtual spiders. I shall work my bill off, have a quick douche, find my
borsten, and then set some cherries on fire with Lucifer -- sounds relaxing, no?

Sunday, 20 January 2013

“She brought her selections
to the counter, eyeing his long fingers poised over the till, and wondered whether
to give him a warm bit of plastic or cold, hard cash….” Paying for merchandise and
living expenses is something you normally do without a great deal of thought.
But as an international student in the Netherlands, you must get a passing
grade in paying your way in order to live here for any length of time. So, here’s
everything you need to know about paying in the Netherlands.* (*But were
afraid to ask)

First, you need a Dutch bank
account. You cannot get a phone plan, personal OV chip card, or make any sort
of automatic payment without one. Everything is geared toward payment with a debit
(“pin”) card from a Dutch bank. Without that pin, it don’t mean a thin’! And with
the pin card comes the “random reader” for internet purchases and
online banking. (Not a Kindle, a “Pindle”!) You must slide your card into this
device, follow numerous prompts, obtain a code and submit it online before you
can complete any sort of internet transaction. No, it really isn’t a field
sobriety test, just a means of protecting your bank account from internet
rogues. Safe text, as it were.

Second, forget about linking
anything for automatic payment to your credit card, or for that matter, using
your credit anywhere other than places accustomed to tourists. It just won’t be
accepted. Again, you need that pin card, or cash. Understand that credit cards
are the exception here, not the rule. And most Dutch credit cards are automatically
paid off monthly from the cardholder’s Dutch bank account, which for most
people negates the whole point of having a credit card in the first place! But
also the reason personal debt here rarely spirals out of control. More than one
person has commented to me that moving here has forced them to live within
their means, in a liberatingly debt-free way. Nothing like an honest buck with
no strings attached!

Getting a Dutch bank account
is not so simple, however. It is a rather lengthycourtship. As with everything else, it is
highly regulated. You must get a residence permit, a BSN number (like a social security number), and register with the city in which
you reside. UU does a great job in efficiently taking care of the residence permit for
students, as well as providing details on city registration and so forth. And, UU
works with Rabobank to provide for student accounts that can be activated as
soon as school begins, before the rest of the details have been completed. But you
must later provide the bank with those details or they will freeze your
account, as I discovered to my chagrin. There I was, horrified to think someone
had hacked my account, and it was just good ole’ Dutch regulation at work!
Regulation, I might add, that tends to prevent such fraud in the first place.

So there you have it,
the ins and outs of paying in the Netherlands. As easy (and as regulated) as a
red light district. Have fun, spend wisely and be safe!

Sunday, 13 January 2013

You know you are becoming
Dutch when all the things that seemed so different become quite normal. So how
do you know when you are really at home in Utrecht?

You don’t bother to see
whether it’s raining or how cold it is before deciding whether to go out; you
just deal with it.

You heart is no longer in your mouth when cycling on a narrow street shared with pedestrians, cars, trucks, buses,
motorcycles and hoards of other cyclists, not to mention construction zones; you just move over, go around, go
with the flow… and ping that bell!

You stop arriving everywhere
30 minutes early because you realize that if you leave five minutes
beforehand you will still be on time.

You get seriously annoyed
when those always-timely trains arrive even 5 minutes late. After all, the
Dutch love to complain!

Sunday, 6 January 2013

I arrived back in Phoenix
for the holidays, blinking like a vampire blinded by all that sunshine! It all
comes back to me. Wearing shorts, giggling at comments about the chilly mid-60’s weather.
Get out the parkas! Driving a car for the first time since last summer, having
to drive forty minutes to get anywhere, and then not being able to have a beer since
I have to drive back. Driving on the five-lane freeway with the grill of a monster
truck filling my rear-view mirror. News broadcasts detailing the usual local shootings,
ongoing discussions about arming teachers. (Really.) But hiking up an actual
mountain! And meeting someone on the trail who went to school in the Netherlands
years ago wanting to try out his Dutch again. Santa hats and Christmas
ornaments perched whimsically on large cacti, and gorgeous, vividly
surrealistic sunsets. Okay, largely due to the wintertime pollution inversion
layer, but pretty spectacular nonetheless! Holiday reunions with family and
friends, visiting former colleagues, and feeling very missed. Basking in the
warmth of the old and familiar, in a very new city of over five million people
from all over the US. Not much has changed. Except me, perhaps.

Three airports, two train
stations, and one soggy walk through the rain, suitcase clattering over the
cobblestone, and I am back home in Utrecht. Dragging my bag into my
400-year-old house in the city center, exhausted with jet lag torpor but
unlikely to sleep anytime soon, I go to my completely modern kitchen, look in
the fridge and ponder whether I should go to Albert Heine for some groceries.
After all, it’s just a walk up the street and open late. Checking my email, I find
one of my meet up groups is having a get together right up the street as well. Unpacking
can wait. I walk down the narrow street amidst the cheerful chatter of bundled-up
pedestrians and cyclists, their breath in the chill air forming vaporous cartoon
dialogue bubbles, and go into a gezellig, warm café. I have a beer (after all,
it’s a short walk back home!) with new friends with all sorts of accents and
varying degrees of English and Dutch proficiency, and even a fellow ‘Merican
from Colorado. All are basking in the crowded warmth of new beginnings in a
very old city of 300,000 people, with students and expats from all over the
world. Groceries, too, can wait, after all there is plenty of time and
everything is so close! Yes, George Bailey, it is, indeed, a Wonderful Life! I
am happy to be back.

In the Netherlands, Oud en
Nieuw, “Old and New,” is celebrated with fireworks and sparklers. In Phoenix, as
in many places in the US, New Year’s Eve is celebrated by gunshots fired in the
air. And so my old year in the New World ends with a bang, and my new year in
the Old World begins with a sparkling display of hope for the future. Out with
the new, in with the old, we'll take a cup o' kindness yet!